Outside Context Problem
by Lockheed X-17
Summary: It had been 200 years since the Cataclysm has forced Man from Paradise, when the war between two world superpowers have ruined their only Home. Now, they live in the abyss, forced to survive in the harshness of the void. But Man still hadn't learned his lesson, and waged war against their brothers as resources became more scarce. And then the Invaders came, and changed everything.
1. Zero

Space is vast. Space is cold. Space is cruel, and unforgiving.

These lessons had been drilled to us since the Space Race. Two giant states, the predecessor of North Eurasian Socialist Megastate, the then-named United Soviet Socialist Republic, and the United States of America, raced to send the first men to the inhospitable abyss, the abyss that soon became our refuge.

Two hundred years. Two hundred years since the Catacylsm. Two hundred years have passed since humanity's exile from Paradise. Two conglomerate states. The North Eurasian Socialist Megastate. The Eastern Asian Megastate. It only took two nations to destroy our cradle, burnt to ashes by greed and hubris and hatred and malice. All that was left was a twisted mockery of Earth, a mirror image of cruel Venus itself.

Ten billion. Ten billion humans died, and less than a billion had been successfully evacuated by supersonic skyhooks. Even two hundred years later, humanity numbered a billion in Sol's embrace.

And yet... And yet we haven't learned. Two hundred years after the Catacylsm, a war was brewing in Sol, a war between the Republic of the Free People and the United Sol Trade Alliance. Already, thousands of ships had been built and sent on month-long missions. Fighting. Killing. From Mercury to the Belt, to Jupiter and her moons, even Saturn itself was not safe. The USTA and the RFP trading blows from orbit, fighting for resources, fighting for territory. None of them would stop until the other was defeated.

And fighting a war in the most hostile environment known to man? Such thing was suicidal. In space, everything is fragile. No metal can withstand the power of a salvo of nuclear missiles, or hypersonic pieces of metal flung on orbit. The battles alone would take days of waiting, of twidling thumbs until they face the enemy, and fight them in firefights that take less than an hour.

They were mad, insane even. The Liberty Exchange had maintained it's neutrality as usual, but everyone knew that they were funding the war in secret to earn more cash. Nippon Prime too maintained it's neutrality in the conflict, but everyone knew that they would take over both sides when they are weakened enough.

_Madness,_ he thought. It was madness... _Madness..._

The crew of the Gunship, _"Angel Wreckage"_, stood by on Pluto's orbit.

Nothing much happened on Pluto. Aside from the usual local bickering, it was too far out in space to be strategically useful for the RFP, especially at this time, when the dwarf planet was at it's apoapsis.

The Angel Wreckage and a couple other ships was ordered to garrison the dwarf planet, and it had doubled as a shore leave for their crews. When the war broke out, they were already too far out to do anything that would help the war, their delta-V budgets were simply not enough to be meaningful logistically and strategically, and much less tactically.

That was good enough, he thought. Let them fight their own wars, he wanted no part in their madness. To begin with, he only had enlisted for the USTA Space Force because of the pay. Living in USTA space was quite cramped, and jobs were rather unsteady. And because he was born poor, he had spent a great deal of his life working as a janitor in several orbital stations. And to save on cost and mass, the gear he had been given was only enough for the job, sometimes even less, with his air and rations on a tight leash.

At least the conditions on the Space Force was better, he mumbled.

Sighing, Erik clambered back to his bunk bed, floating in microgravity as he pushed himself towards the bunks. Well, it would be fair to say it was everyone's bunk bed. Everyone shared bunks on the ship to save on mass. He had three hours left for his own leisure, and he wanted to sleep.

**"ACTION STATIONS, ACTION STATIONS. SHIPBOARD CONDITION SET TO RED. ALL PERSONNEL TO THEIR STATIONS. ACTION STATIONS, ACTION STATIONS..."**

Suddenly, the alarms rang. Red lights began to fill the rooms, claxons ringing loudly as he tried to secure himself on the bag.

_Damnit, what was it now?! Why now?! Why not later, after I am asleep?!_

He angrily undid the zippers and the locks on the bag, and grogily floated back to the CIC. When he arrived there, he could see several of his crewmates, most of them still eating rations, holding their bags of soylent and water as they went to their stations.

"Damnit... What the hell is happening?!"

The captain on the ship, Captain Friedriech Schaeffer, looked as if he had not been sleeping for days. His angry voice rumbled, clattering on their bones even as he speak.

"Sir, you won't believe this..."

The captain went towards the astrogators, and shook.

_"What... What the..."_

Displayed on the screen was the greyish moon, Charon. Except it was shattered. Literally. Pieces of the former moon was sent flying everywhere, like a grenade exploding outwards.

"Holy shit the fuck was that?!"

"It's the end I tell you, it's the end!"

"Everyone, assist in the evacuation of the citizens in Pluto!" ordered the captain. "We have no time, once these fragments fill Pluto's orbital space, all orbiting infrastructure would be damaged."

"But sir, we can't evacuate!" cried out one of the astrogators! "We're too far out from any nearby planets to escape, and if I guess right, it'll take months to properly evacuate everyone, and it'll take the debris mere days to fill the orbit."

**"DAMNIT!"**

The CIC fell silent, everyone fell silent. Even if they were to move now, they wouldn't be able to save everyone.

It's the Cataclysm all over again...

"**I don't care!** I want you to aid in the evacuation of the orbital space." he shouted. "Call the rest of the garrisoned fleet, we have a job to do."

"Sir..." mumbled another astrogator, his face frozen in shock and fear.

"What is it now?!" the captain bellowed again.

"Charon, sir... There's something inside it..."

The astrogator pointed to the screen.

There was something within Charon, it's shape irregular, it's texure metallic. Even from this distance, they could see that it was not something natural, but something artificial.

And at the center of the damned thing was light. A deep blue light within it's core, shining brilliantly.

A few seconds later, the astrogators detected several objects emerging from the giant construct. Thirteen, all of them were artificial, leaving contrails of trace elements in their path, and seemed to be... performing... orbital maneuvers...

"Aliens..." one of them mumbled, although none of them knew who spoke it. "Those things are aliens..."

And thus began the First Contact in between the Citadel and Humanity.


	2. One

Ts'o Barak stood as the 'pirates' sent an activating code to the once-inactive Relay, the giant metal construct becoming alive, the core shining increasingly bright as nearby ships bathed in it's brilliant-blue light of the speed of light being exceeded.

It had took the Hegemony years. Years to earn the necessary capital from various shady groups. Years to form contracts and alliances with different groups within C-space and the Terminus, to increase political support for the Hegemony, allowing them to gain the prestige and the money to bribe several high-ranking politicians, and blackmail those against them. Simple political maneuvering.

It had also taken them quite a lot of funds to divert the Turian patrol fleet's attention from this side of the galaxy, which had proven to be extremely difficult to pull off, and to 'arrange' the distruption of this sector's comm buoys.

Finally, after all those years of hard labour, and with the 'help' of the announcement of limited Relay activation, the Hegemony's petition to spread out it's own territory was granted by the Citadel.

Of course, while the Citadel allowed the activation of some Mass Relays, what the pirate fleet was about to do was illegal.

"Captain, we have already sent the activation code for the other Relay. Though there was some... problems on the other side, it is now ready for use. We await your command."

"Hmm..." the Batarian thought. He tried to think of the odds, whether it be worth it or not. Certainly, the pay-offs would be large if they succeeded, but the Turians were going to be suspicious. And the Salarians, even more so. If they were caught, the repercussions would be huge, especially considering that this Relay wasn't actually allowed to be activated.

_That is, if they are caught..._

"Let's enter the relay and scout that system." he said. It was too late for doubt and other such thoughts, the action was already done, and they only need to follow it through.

"Aye aye, captain."

The closest ships to the relay, a repurposed Turian cruiser (which was the flagship of their fleet) and two salvaged frigates, began performing burns towards the core. As they got closer and closer, the electricity within the core began to arc, touching all three of the ships. Their mass effect fields began to glow visibly, blue light covering the spacecrafts like a warm blanket.

And suddenly, they were flung towards the abyss, at speeds faster than light itself, travelling until they reached their destination.

Ten other spacecraft followed them, disappearing within a blink of an eye.

§

The fleet emerged from the Relay, bathed in the light of a distant, yellow, K-class star. From what their sensors managed to gather, there were five rocky planets, two gas giants, two ice giants, and some asteroids and dwarf planets.

This system didn't have any garden worlds inside it, but there were a couple planets or so that could be made into dome worlds. Not bad... The Hegemony can use this system as a forward base, to extend their reach into C-space. Using this system, they can expand their own territories, their own industries. More funds. If they, this fleet, can pull this off... If they can succeed in this mission, the payoffs would be huge. They would not only earn credits, but also empower the Hegemony while doing so.

However, their sensors also detected activity. Their fleet was utterly swamped with radio waves, so much in fact that at first they thought their own systems were malfuctioning and producing error signals.

These were not errors, nor were these radio signals the result of natural activity.

These were artificial, made by a technologically capable race. A spacefaring race, with countless artificial satellites littering the system, with colonies on various planets and moons.

And their technology seemed primitive, without even a trace of Eezo in their construction. Their ships seemed small, puny in comparison to theirs.

He observed their current location. A small planet, a small colony. There seemed to be no warships in orbit, or, at least, nothing that would challenge their superiority in battle.

Ts'o Barak smiled. _For once, luck was shining in favour of the Batarians..._

§

"Angel Wreckage, this is Peaceeater reporting. Holy shit did you see that?!"

"Copy that, Peaceeater. We saw that event. We must evacuate all the civilians in orbit immediately."

"Negative. Our ship is still undergoing repairs with our engines. It'll take us about five hours to get it working again. Blasted ship... Until then, we can't do anything."

"Screaming Silence, report in."

"This is the Screaming Silence, over. We're outta this."

"Negative, Screaming Silence. Evacuate the civilians in orbital space to the ground."

"I'm sorry Captain Schaeffer, but we won't take orders from you. We're leaving. Screaming Silence out."

The captain of the Angel Wreckage wanted to smash the control panel infront of him out of anger. He wanted to scream and berate at his counterpart on the other ship, but he composed himself. It would not do to appear flustered on the comms, that would only incite panic and disloyalty amongst everyone else within hearing range.

"Captain!" shouted Astrogation. "The Screaming Silence is performing orbital maneuvers, they're planning to intercept a Methane tanker."

"They're really leaving..." muttered one of the astrogators.

"Ignore them, let them do what they want." Schaeffer grumbled. "We don't have the time nor the delta-V to waste chasing them. Focus on the evacuation of the citizens in the orbital space."

"Captain, the thirteen bogeys are beginning to move. Fuck, they have torches!"

_Torches?_

"Confirm that?!"

"Sir, the bogeys are currently thrusting at speeds faster that what we are capable of." an astrogator replied. "Either their specific impulses are bad... Or, more likely, they have torch-drives, with high thrust and specific impulses."

This was bad... On one hand, there were actual real life aliens emerging from what remained of Charon. On the other hand, Charon exploded, and the resulting ablation cascade would impede any sort of space activity within Pluto's orbit for centuries, if not millenia. Not only that, it would also affect Pluto's orbit, the disappearance of a major gravity well and it's remnants turning into smithereens is more than just a major catastrophe.

_If the aliens that just appeared were capable of doing such destruction..._

The captain took his mind off that train of thought. It's still too early for assumptions, they still didn't know what exactly caused Charon's destruction, aside from the obvious fact that the strange construct had something to do with it. Fighting the aliens would come later, the civilians are their priority first and foremost.

A few minutes later, the Angel Wreckage began to turn. It's engines roared to life as it performed the interception burn. Their target was a small orbital colony, estimated to be able to contain 150 civilians. While said orbital station had engines to alter it's trajectory, it was only enough to dodge trash moving at hypervelocity.

The logistics officers protested at the captain's order, citing that it was impossible, beyond their own capability to evacuate citizens. They barely have the crew capacity to save even a fraction of them, much less 150 of them. The captain threatened to throw them out of airlock for disobeying orders, replying that 'if they would not help then he'll throw them out of airlock to accommodate more passengers.'

Of course, none of the logistics officers wanted to die, and thus were given the impossible task of planning out on how to evacuate the citizens.

"Does he think we're fucking magicians?!" roared First Lieutenant Lee Taiping. "We're logistic officers, we can't conjure up a magical fucking plan just to save some fucking civilians out here in goddamned Pluto!"

"Shut up, Lee. The captain might hear you!" replied First Lieutenant Anya. "Just help us here and get to work, else we all get spaced for mutiny. So, getting back to the point, just how in the fucking hell are we going to evacuate an orbital colony of 150?"

"We barely have enough space here as it is," mumbled Lieutenant Young. "I don't think that we can feasibly evacuate anyone with what we currently got, especially not in the limited time we are given with."

Meanwhile, Commander Lao was silent. He was floating eeriely still, legs and arms crossed, in sharp contrast to his much more animated crewmates.

"I have an idea," he said. "I'm not sure if it would work, but we won't have any other choice."

§

Erik clambered towards airlock. Though he sure as hell wanted to go to sleep, it seems that the universe itself actively stopping him from getting his well-deserved rest with all the weird shit that's happening.

He was currently fitting himself with an MCP-type EVA suit, removing the easily foldable spandex from the helmet. While wearing the suit in itself was quick and easy, it was rather... difficult to wear.

"Move your arms upwards."

"Yes, yes..." he replied, raising both his arms upwards as the other crewmember fitted the arm portions of the suit.

His arm ballooned as he put his arm in, and as soon as his arm went all the way through, it was depressurized, sticking on his skin.

His companion, an ensign by the name of Lily Han, was draining all the air from his suit. Spaces within the suit like the armpits and the back of his knees would swell and expand like balloons if the suit wasn't totally depressurized, and that would limit his mobility even more. Especially on the crotch. He did not like how the suit hugged his crotch, even through a special protective panel.

Most of the EVA suits used by the Space Forces of the various factions in Sol were skintight and vacuum depressurized. These kinds of suits were much more mobile, and left far more room to maneuver than the soft-suits used by pre-Cataclysm Earth and the hardsuits that functioned more like powered armour than spacesuits. And if they were ever punctured, the user will only receive bruises rather than the certain death of soft-suits and hardsuits.

Erik then took out some pills. Aspirin, he muttered. There wasn't enough time for pre-breathing, and thus he has to endure the agonizing pain of having his lungs almost explode from having higher pressure compared to the helmet. _Oh boy, what fun..._

"Is the neckdam secured?" he asked as he put the helmet on his head.

"Yep." Lily replied, tapping the neckdam and securing the helmet. If this isn't done properly, the helmet would pop out like a cork in a pressurized champagne bottle.

"Is it good? Do you feel fine?" she asked.

The suit felt tight as it grabbed to his skin, his sense of touch was magnified. He felt rather dizzy, and his heart began to beat even faster, he could feel the pressure building up within his body wanting to escape.

A second later, he farted, the air inside his colons evacuating quickly. That certainly made him feel better. At least he wouldn't die from his body exploding from internal/external pressure differences, he thought.

"Certainly." he answered. "My lungs still hurts as hell, but I should be fine."

_And my crotch feels itchy and sticky_, he wanted to say, but it would be embarrassing to say that infront of a woman.

"And is it still itchy down there?" she asked.

"Damn you." he answered back, trying to supress his amusement. Of course, they had shared living spaces here with everyone aboard the ship. They were already like family, spending almost five years aboard the gunship together. Of course there wouldn't be secrets in between them in the first three months.

"Okay, okay." she laughed it off as she floated above him, standing upside down as she did one last check. "Remember what the doctor said, don't expose yourself to more than 300 millisieverts, or else you get cooked and your balls would be beyond saving." she snickered.

_Oi, don't jinx it!_ Breathing was already painful enough, and he wanted to sleep, but he did not want to end up being sterile! Not to mention that he'd lose the job in doing so.

_Well, that was a rather good reminder... 400 milliSieverts and I'm sterile, and also I get fired. Oh joy._

"Okay, let's remember the essentials." Erik spoke. "Fuel?"

"Tanks are at a hundred percent capacity, and there ain't no leaks, so that's a check." said Lily.

"Oxygen?"

"You've got enough oxygen in there to burn yourself in case of leaks." Lily snarked.

"Oi, don't make fun of me." he rattled back. "I dare you to get into the suit if you dare to keep making fun of me in an MCP suit."

"Fine~ fine~ I'll stop all the jokes."

"Radio?"

"The radio system's functional, alright. There's gonna be some static if you pass through the reactors and the engines, so don't spend more time than you have to." she said.

"Yes, ma'am. Batteries?"

"Enough to last for a day." she replied. "Don't waste around your fuel and your batteries, and always check your oxygen levels. If you feel that something's wrong, just return to the nearest airlock as soon as you can."

"Yes, mother..." he groaned jokingly, and Lily began looking at him strangely, a mix of amusement and fake shock.

"_Ohoho~?_ So you swing that way, eh? You sick bastard. Didn't think you're into tha-"

"Hey!" Erik shouted, catching the female ensign in surprise.

He sighed. "Let's just get on with it so I can get back to sleep."

"Yes, yes."

As soon as he got used to the pain, Lily evacuated the airlock and the whole room was depressurized.

"Okay, let's go check the engines and fuel lines." he muttered to himself.

_I just hope Lao is right, and maybe we can get the civilians evacuated with this crazy plan of his..._

Erik stifled a yawn as he headed towards the rear of the ship.

§

Ts'o Barak looked at the reddish-orange planet underneath them. The primitive's colony on this world was extensive, and there were even hundreds of stations orbiting it. No doubt it holds quite a wealth, but he was rather wary. The amount of ships he have are limited, and he won't be wasting it on an attack that isn't planned.

"Captain, let's raid this planet already!" Weapons said, his trigger finger already itching for combat.

"Hold it Lieutenant." he replied. "Not yet."

"Why not?! They're primitives! They don't even have Eezo!" Weapons replied. "We can easily defeat them if we attack now! Are you a coward, Ts'o Barak? Are you such a cowar-"

**BLAM!**

The captain went towards the offending batarian and shot him with his pistol without further warning, surprising everyone. Blood was splattered all over the place, his guts scattered on the control panels. "They said that you were the best amongst their pirating group, Lieutenant Yomak. I do hope they are wrong, on that. The Red Stars were rather delightful to work with."

He shot at the dead lieutenant's body thrice, to make sure that he was dead, and looked at everyone. "Anyone who would want to ask questions? I do hope you won't follow this failure of a Lieutenant over there."

Everyone was silent. Nobody on the CIC dared to question the captain.

"If we don't gather the necessary information, even backward primitives like them could wipe us out." he said. "Order the Hy'kshan to gather information about these primitives, and see if we can get to learn more about them. Make no attempt to attack them unless fired upon, are we clear? I don't want to waste more ships than what I have to."

"Aye aye, captain." they said in unison.

"Also, clean up this mess, and get someone better on the Weapons." he said. "_What a bloody waste..._"

"Aye aye." they answered back. A salarian went towards the weapon controls and took away the corpse of the former lieutenant and wiped out the blood around the panels and the floor. A krogan went towards the weapons control and sat there, he seemed oddly giddy as he touched the panels.

_Now, let's get to work._


	3. Two

"Fifty minutes until interception burn, Captain."

Captain Roberta Simmons unbuckled the various clasps and zippers on her seat as she spoke to the astrogators. "Continue with the trajectory. Ignore all their hails"

"But Captain... Are you sure about this?"

She simply glanced at them angrily, and soon enough the astrogators went silent. She ignored them and simply clambered her way towards the supplies closet and took out some rations. Soylent, she muttered. Though she has long but tired of it's taste, they don't have anything else.

She did take some of the more flavoured packets, however. Normal flavoured packets were bland at their finest, and digusting at their worst. As she was about to eat, the alarms around the ship began to rang, the lights inside the rooms began to turn red and and the sirens began to blare.

**"ACTION STATIONS, ACTION STATIONS. SHIPBOARD CONDITION SET TO RED. ALL PERSONNEL TO THEIR STATIONS. ACTION STATIONS, ACTION-"**

"Captain! The Charon bogeys are intercepting our trajectory!"

"Shit, intercept within thirty minutes!"

"What?!" Simmons bellowed, "Quick, evade intercept!"

And at her command, the astrogators and pilots began laying out their trajectory. The Screaming Silence began to heave, and turn. Engines began heating up, and the nuclear thermal rockets roared in the silent emptiness.

"Shit, they're still intercepting us!" the astrogators shouted, "Damn aliens and their torches! **FUCK!**"

The Screaming Silence kept on burning to evade, but try as hard as they can, intercept with the alien bogey was unavoidable, her ship was just too slow, her thrust far too weak.

"Shit..."

The Captain quickly clambered back to the CIC, and began securing herself in her seat. The various crewmen onboard also did so, with essential personnel manning their stations. Gunners, engineers, technicians, everyone floated still as they awaited the encounter. No doubt that this situation would go bloody...

"All hands, prepare for combat!"

"Yes, captain!"

§

Mirak stood by as they began rendezvous with the native spacecraft. His ship, a rather well-maintained pirate frigate, had been tasked to investigate more about these natives.

The salarian that accompanied him seemed to fly around the Sensors, clearly excited by the prospect of examining a newfound species of aliens.

According to the salarian's estimates, it seemed that this primitive spacecraft still uses weak chemical thrusters, and based on this, they guessed the craft to be rather light and less dense compared to their own ships to carry the necessary fuel to power their craft.

However, it had been difficult to gather data about their weapons and armour. From what they could tell, the ship they were looking at had really small guns was armoured in some sort of aluminium. Coupled with their odd, rather cylindrical shape and barebones aesthetics had led him to believe that these had some sort of cultural significance, or that they were rather lacking in materials to build their ships. The salarian onboard, however, thought that these ships acted like they were rockets. Perhaps they just had been colonizing space recently? The rather ubiquitous colonies placed around the system seemed to indicate otherwise. There was also the disturbing lack of garden world within the system, and the closest one (which also seemed to have the largest EM signature), was rather barren and empty, and also lacked the necessary atmosphere.

How did they get here? What are they doing? Why haven't they discovered Eezo? Why are their ships like this? There were many question fluttering around the salarian's mind, however, the batarian only saw that they were primitive, and judged their effectiveness in combat based on their current capabilities.

Weak. They were pitifully weak. Their ships are armoured thinly, their guns weak and pathetic, without even a shield to protect them. He entertained the thought about how utterly nightmarish would it be to serve onboard, but then ignored it a few minutes after.

They had a job to do, and his job was to try and poke a stick at these primitives to judge their combat capabilities. Should be easy enough. If they were to pull any sort of nasty trick (which was unlikely), they would immediately flee. It's not as if the ship has any capability to chase them anyway.

"It's a go."

§

Captain Simmons ordered the launch of 30 Striker missiles towards the bogey's predicted trajectory. Since intercept is unavoidable, they should then strike first. If they intended to communicate, they could simply transmit the necessary information to anyone and anything that could hear. An intercept between two vessels meant an intent to engage, entering with an intent to fight or to dock. Doing otherwise would simply be a waste of propellant, and she very much doubted that the aliens follow the same docking standards that every faction uses, much less than the intent to make peaceful relations by docking. Boarding perhaps, but what kind of idiot would board an alien ship?

The enemy ship, according to what the countless camera drones scattered around Pluto (or the rest of the Solar System, for that matter), looked weird. There wasn't any kind of radiator around it, nor could they make sense of it's design. It's just plainly and utterly... weird. It had wings, as if it was intended to enter and exit an atmosphere, perhaps an SSTO? Given that it had those powerful engines, it seemed rather plausible, but still questionable, especially for a deep-space warship.

Plus, there was all that strange weak points around the hull, and while it does look rather impressive compared to their own craft, the bogey spacecraft resembled that of old Earth's pre-spaceflight conceptions of spacecraft. Sensors said that the craft seemed to have a low heat signature, and what scant signature there is was scattered around the spacecraft like stripes. Damage Control assumed that they used heatsinks, which implied that these ships have either low combat tolerance (in terms of attrition), or their heatsinks were a magnitude more sophisticated that their own.

It was also large. Larger than their own craft, even.

She smiled, a large spacecraft was an obvious target. Communications and Astrogation had been ordered to compensate for the bogey's immense thrust capability. It would be difficult, but according to them it wouldn't be impossible.

Thirty more Striker missiles were launched, ejected alongside the ship's horizontal axis. As they reached a safe-enough distance, the engines of the missiles roared, following the missile fleet launched earlier.

A big ship with huge thrust would still have a lot of inertia. Avoiding all of the missiles would be difficult, and they had been spaced apart meticulously so that one explosion wouldn't cripple the whole salvo.

And in case the enemy manages to shoot down all of the missiles with either their kinetics or lasers, the second salvo might allow them to score a direct hit.

Closer, and closer, the bogey was within sight of the first missile fleet.

§

"Captain, the primitive ship has launched some torps!"

"Wha? Now?!"

Mirak was rather surprised. Had they actually entered their engagement ranges already? It was unthinkable for them to actually enter it without knowing, the primitive ship hadn't even turned to engage!

"Two salvos, thirty torps each." Sensors reported. "I think they're probing our own defenses, sir."

_Probing our defenses? These primitives?_

"No matter, we shall shoot down all their missiles as soon as they get into range." Mirak said. "Let's humour then, shall we?"

"Aye aye."

The primitive's torps are as strange as their own ship, silvery cylinders of metal, moving at speeds that are easily interceptible. Yet these missiles were pointed, the purpose of which is unknown even to the salarian onboard. They currently seemed to be resting, after initial burns they seemed to have disabled their own engines. The salarian said that they might be conserving fuel when they approach, their current velocity brings them in an encounter, a high-speed intercept at that..

Mirak questioned the primitive's own sensibilities, launching a torp salvo long before they could enter within range, or even encounter a ship for that matter seemed rather stupid, given that it could be easily intercepted and targeted before they could reach their ships, especially at these numbers. These missiles are simply just far too few, their thrust far too pathetic. In fact, they were merely coasting as of now, instead of boosting towards them.

This was far too weak to be an overt attack, he thought. Experience told him so, but that might be chalked up to having literally no experience against these warships. For all he knew, they might be offering up all their resistance against them.

"Damnit... I never wanted to do first contact..."

The first salvo of missiles were now entering within their engagement range. Still too far for their GARDIAN array, but were well within the range of their own kinetic batteries. Targeting the missiles individually would be difficult at this range, especially given their small cross-sections and sizes, but it would be nothing special.

"Captain, the primitive's torps are firing their engines!" Sensors shouted. "They're speeding towards us!"

Mirak quickly told them to shoot them down with their own kinetic batteries, but he also ordered them to not reveal any sort of undue information towards their enemy. Primitives they might be, but overconfidence would easily make a superior enemy fall against a comparatively weak one.

Let's just see how well these primitives fare against their own defense systems...

§

"Enemy bogey is firing."

Every sensors that had been scattered around the Solar System, most especially those around Pluto, watched the thirteen bogeys intensely. While the speed-of-light lag would ensure that it would take hours for the various factions across the System to see the threat, everyone around the dullish-brown dwarf planet took every information they could get, and started to plan.

From the viewpoint of the the Angel Wreckage, and for everyone else, it seems that the bogeys had begun the first move. They dispatched a single ship towards the Screaming Silence's trajectory from a highly eccentric orbit, as if they intended to intercept the stray missile schooner.

The Screaming Silence began performing evasion burns, but it was futile. Bogey-01 managed to secure a burn, the aliens were moving too fast, an encounter was all but inevitable.

In an act of desperation, the warship then launched two salvos towards the enemy, two fleets of thirty Striker missiles each.

The first missile fleet went closer, and began the boosting phase as soon as it entered within range. Bogey-1 then fired it's kinetic weapons towards the oncoming missiles, and managed to kill nineteen.

As soon as it entered 100 km, the missiles began the homing phase, chasing down what it deemed to be the greatest source of heat. Five more missiles were killed, and the second salvo entered within firing range.

At 50 km Bogey-1 began firing it's own lasers in tandem with their railguns, killing four from the first salvo, and thirteen from the second salvo.

The second salvo then begun performing evasive maneuvers while they were being shot, and the last two missiles cut of their own thrust. Perhaps they had run out of fuel, the maneuvers they have pulled had been rather delta-V intensive, and because of that, the enemy ignored them.

Thirteen more missiles were shot down, and the remaining missiles began performing high-gee maneuvers. The bogey focused fire on the second missile fleet

However, when two missiles detonated within the 5 km range, their engines roared to life once more, and detonated. However, after detonation something rather... interesting had happened.

"The fuck was that?!"

When the missiles exploded, the area of the bogey spacecraft was bathed in a sudden flash of light for a microsecond, as expected of standard Striker nuclear missile.

But after the nukes exploded, they hadn't expected to see an oval deep-blue field suddenly appearing around the ship, covering it for a few seconds before fading away. The ship was unharmed, and undamaged.

"I-impossible..."

"N-No way?!"

"Did-did you see it?!"

They had not expected the bogeys to carry a force-field.

§

"Damage Report?!" Mirak shouted towards the bridge, obviously surprised by the sudden explosions from outside their ship.

"The two torps managed to blind 30% of all the exposed sensors at that angle from unexpected radiation. Though, it is still manageable. The baffles in between the armour had absorbed most of the incoming radiation. At least our armour isn't that dense, and that the bombs were weak and too far away, else we'd be bathed in X-rays right now.

Also, 10% of our GARDIAN laser array had been damaged from the radiation, and disabled at least two of our secondary batteries."

_Wait, __**what?!**_

"How?! Just fucking how?!"

"Two of the torps went silent. We hadn't expected them to do that. Also, I guess these torps are nuclear bombs, Captain. Estimated to be a few kilotons at most."

_Nuclear torpedoes? What are they, Krogans? And 60 of them?_

"Well what the hell are you doing?! Shoot down those damn torps now!"

"Aye, captain!"

The crew redoubled their efforts and managed to shoot down the rest of the torpedo salvo. Some of the nuke torps detonated within the 15 km of their ship. While the salarian said that they won't get irradiated, Mirak didn't want anything to do with nukes and ordered them to evade it as much as they could.

The whole encounter took place within two minutes.

§

The salvo failed. Even the second missile fleet had been shot down, they had planned to pelt the alien ship with their nukes before they could approach, but even the closest missiles hadn't done any appreciable damage to the ship. And even then, the bogey had neutralized most of their missiles before they could get close enough.

Simmons looked at her crew with steely eyes. They knew what had to be done. Their fate had been already set in stone the moment they had joined the USTA Space Forces.

She consulted with Weapons and Comms. They had 40 Striker missiles and 100 Flak missiles remaining in their arsenal. Because of budget concerns (and the relative lack of attackers that Pluto was expected to receive), their Flak missiles had been outfitted with HE bombs.

Well, it wasn't the time for regrets. If things go to the drain, she would order sending their entire craft towards the enemy warship. With all the explosives they have onboard, they would serve as a missile. A big, well-armoured missile, filled with humans, on a suicidal maneuver. Even if they failed, she would ensure that the bogey would die alongside them.

"We are ready to enact scuttling procedures on your command, Captain. Just give the order."

There was a bit of hesitation in their craft. Surely, no human would want to sent forth to die. That holds doubly true in Pluto, where most civilians live in relative harmony compared to the rest of the System, where they rarely experience war and strife.

So it was rather ironic that they would be the first men to die in battle, on orbit of the most peaceful planet in Sol's embrace, in a battle against literal aliens.

"I understand."


End file.
